Page 143 of House of Dusk
YENERIS
Yeneris had no memory of crossing the dais. One moment she was snapping the clay key, and the next she was beside Sinoe’s crumpled form, scooping the princess into her arms. “Sinoe? Fates, Sinoe, say something!”
She pressed shaking fingers to Sinoe’s throat, feeling for a pulse, then nearly collapsed when she felt the faint flicker. A slight groan wheezed from Sinoe’s lips, followed by something unintelligible.
“What was that?” She leaned closer, trying to catch the words.
“I said, ‘Being a god is surprisingly painful.’” Sinoe moaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I know it sounds wonderful, all that power and glory, but honestly, it’s worse than the morning after Ichos and I stole a pot of milk-wine. Ugh. Yen, do you think you could possibly carve my brain out from my skull? Just for a little while?”
“No,” Yeneris said, with a choked laugh. “That would be a fairly serious dereliction of duty for a royal bodyguard.”
“All right, then.” Sinoe closed her eyes, drawing in a long-suffering breath. “You’re fired.”
Yeneris huffed. “That’s the reward I get for saving your life?”
“Mmm. Yes. You’ll be much happier, I promise.”
“You really want me to go?” Yeneris started to pull back. Surely Sinoe was joking. She couldn’t seriously mean to send her away, after...well, aftereverything.
“No, you ridiculous fool.” Sinoe clung to her collar, pulling her close again. “I want you here. I just don’t want you distracted all the time, keeping watch for assassins and firebombs and sharks.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about sharks in the city, princess,” said Yeneris.
Sinoe rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point.”
“What is the point, then?”
“I want to be able to distract you myself.” Sinoe arched her brows meaningfully.
Yeneris choked, feeling a hot flush rising up her cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” Sinoe said cheerfully. “We averted the apocalypse. We can flirt all we like now.”
Yeneris dragged in a breath. “What if I want more than flirting?”
Sinoe’s teasing smile melted into something sweeter and more serious. Her fingers still clutched the collar of Yeneris’s tunic. “Like what? What do you want?”
Yeneris didn’t answer with words. But she knew, in the sweetness that followed, that Sinoe understood. And that she had the same answer.
You. Always you.
• • •
Yeneris paced along the edge of the terrace, keeping watch over the tomb. She knew it wasn’t necessary. From what the balewalker, Sister Sephre, had told them, things were well again in the world of the dead. The Serpent restored, the skotoi contained within the labyrinth of the dead. And on top of that, there were at least a dozen royal guards along the perimeter of the necropolis, to ensure that Ichos and Sinoe could have their privacy at the tomb.
But old habits were hard to break. Yeneris tapped the hilt of her sword, considering the best options if she needed to whisk Sinoe away from this place.
King Hierax has been interred quietly a few days earlier. There had been no grand funeral procession, no bards singing his deeds. They had hung mourning banners from the palace, but even those had been simple indigo cloth, with no sigil, and Yeneris suspected that most folk who did bow their heads to them were mourning something else—something more. The loss of identity. The loss of certainty.
And what did Sinoe and her brother mourn, Yeneris wondered, watching the pair of them standing in front of the stone niche. Ichos had one arm around his sister’s shoulders, and she leaned into him, united in whatever it was they felt.
Sorrow. There must be some of that. He was their father. They had loved him. Some parts of him, at least. Even if those parts had dwindled over time, replaced by the brutal, greedy man whose thirst for glory had murdered thousands. And now he was gone. His spirit shattered by the blade of oblivion.
Perhaps he deserved it. Lacheron might have been the secret master, but Hierax wasn’t simply a tool. Sinoe had given her father a chance to free himself, to do the right thing, and he’d rejected it. He couldn’t accept losing the false vision he had of himself, even after all the terrible things that vision had caused. The thousands of dead, both Helissoni and Bassaran. The destruction of Yeneris’s home.
Because it was, still, her home. A part of her would always yearn for it. Would be looking for blue doors, for smooth white domes against an island sky. Would ache for the scent of her mother’s hair, sweet with lily oil, for the thrum of goldwings at dawn. For a life that had been stolen. She thought of her mother’s words.Sometimes the world is like that, love. We can’t always get what we want. We have to choose one path, and give up another.For now, this was her place. Ensuring that the victory they’d won remained.
Ichos and Sinoe turned away from the tomb, and began making their way back toward Yeneris. She considered the prince, now soon-to-be king. He hadn’t wanted it. In fact, when Hura had told him he had to claim the title, his reply involved stuffing the crown into a very rude and frankly physically impossible location.
